


When in Doubt, Go to America's Diner

by CuddlyFangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cutesy, Denny's, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Impala, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyFangirl/pseuds/CuddlyFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fighting sucks, Denny’s is nice. Put two and two together, and you’re out in the middle of nowhere, eating pancakes late at three in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When in Doubt, Go to America's Diner

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! <3

Dean had no idea how it happened. He had left the bunker in fit of frustration and floored the Impala, driving god knows where or for how long. Somehow he had driven so far he ended up using up the whole tank, and only by sheer luck did the Impala stutter to a halt outside an old fashioned diner called Denny’s. His stomach was rumbling, it was freezing outside, and he didn’t want to go home just yet. He needed to be alone.

He sighed tiredly, before turning off the old girl and heading inside, a wad of cash in his hand. Flopping down into a booth, he rubbed his temples, a headache slowly beginning to throb behind his eyes. The restaurant was mostly empty, except for a few sad souls here and there, nibbling pancakes and staring into the distance with tired eyes. He heard a solid clink and looked up from the table. An older, kindly looking waitress had set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

“On the house, hon. You look like you’re havin’ a rough night.” She said in a slight southern drawl.

Dean gave her a tight smile, before taking a grateful sip.

She pulled out a little notebook and pen before asking politely, “So whatcha having? We’ve got a late night discount on pancakes?”

Dean’s face brightened a bit at her words, and he replied, “Well, not my usual thing, but it’s not a usual night. I’ll take a stack of pancakes please.”

She smiled a bit, the corners of her eyes wrinkling. “I’ll be right back with that, sugar.”

The sweet woman walked off, leaving Dean to his thoughts. He couldn’t even remember what he and Cas had been fighting about to start with. All he knew was that they had both yelled terrible things, and eventually Dean couldn’t handle it any longer. So Dean was sitting in Denny’s, throat choked up and about to devour all the pancakes he could. The waitress walked back quickly, setting the plate in front of him and a little container of syrup next to it. He smiled at her weakly. Before he realized it, she had scooted into the seat opposite of him and was sipping her own cup of coffee.

“Alright, I see a lot of battered folks pass through here late at night, and I always like to hear their stories. Most are pretty interesting, if depressing.” She stated matter-of-factly.

Dean stared at her, a bit confused.

She continued seriously, “You look like you’ve got some problems to tell and you need someone to tell em to. Spill.”

He fidgeted, unsure of what to say.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Come on, hon, I do have all night, but I’m gonna run out of coffee by then. Is it work? Family? A guy?”

Dean’s eyes shot wide at her last comment, but chose to keep quiet.

The waitress frowned at his look, and answered his silent question, “I can tell the type. Don’t worry, boy, it’s 2013 for gods sakes. I’m not going to throw you out for liking dicks. Now come on, get to talkin. I’m Dolores by the way. ”

Dean slowly relaxed, and quietly began to let out his troubles. Well, some of them, at least. The waitress might not throw him out for his sexuality, but spouting tales of angels losing their wings and having an obnoxious king of hell in his basement would get him thrown in a mental hospital for sure. He shivered at his last experience of that. Dean talked for hours, about how he was worried about his brother’s health, how he still missed his parents, how he was fighting with his boyfriend again. The waitress listened silently, nodding occasionally and frowning other times. The sun was peaking up over the horizon when he had finally said all he could. Dean felt somewhat empty, like blabbering about all of his problems had released some of them. It was a good kind of empty.

Dean glanced down at the cold dregs of his coffee, before Dolores noticed and swiftly took it from him. “I’ll fill this up for ya, Dean. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dean gave her a genuine smile as she walked off. He looked out the window and squinted at the rosy light creeping across the sky. Tiny white flakes were drifting about, and he could see bits of trash and leaves being whisked about in a light breeze. He sighed quietly, wondering what Sam and Cas were doing. Sam had been fast asleep during their fight last night; he was probably just waking up, and getting ready for a light jog. Rain or shine, Sam always liked jogging in the morning. Dean smiled at that thought, before his mind turned back to Cas. He was most likely sleeping fitfully somewhere random in the bunker, or pacing anxiously, terrified something had happened to Dean during the night. A pang of guilt resounded in Dean’s stomach at that realization. He was just slipping out of his seat when the bell on top of the door jingled, and a dark haired man walked in cautiously, shivering a bit. He fell back into the cushioned seat as he noticed who he was.

“Cas?” Dean mumbled in his general direction.

Castiel perked up at the sound, and turned to look at Dean. His eyes grew softer, the bags beneath his eyes a little lighter, and he sighed in relief.

“Hello, Dean.” He said quietly, glancing at the other seat of the booth.

Dean understood, and motioned for him to come sit. Cas settled into the opposite seat and looked at Dean hard, his gaze darting all over him as if to make sure he was okay.  
“After our um, fight last night,” Cas began nervously, “I was very upset with you, and I let you leave without a thought. But when several hours had passed and you still hadn’t come back, well. I assumed the worst. I didn’t want to bother Sam, so I went looking for you all across town on my own because I needed to tell you I’m sorry. I said some very stupid, irrational things last night and I’m truly sorry.”

Dean remained quiet for a moment, before looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. Guilt sat in his stomach like a white hot ball. “Yeah, well. I said some serious crap too, so I think we both have reason to apologize. I’m really sorry…and I shouldn’t have left like that.” He looked up, and stared at him levelly. “I wasn’t thinking straight, and hell I probably could have gotten hurt, the way I was driving. I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

It was a tensely silent, then Castiel reached across the table to curl his hands around Dean’s, tightening them protectively. “I am glad you’re safe, and I’m glad you are not upset. That’s all I care about.”

Tiny crinkles appeared around Dean’s eyes as he gave him a warm smile.

Two loud clinks shook them from their daze. Dolores had returned, and had plopped two mugs of coffee onto the table.

She peered at Castiel warily, before asking Dean, “So. Is this the boy you’ve been going on about all night?”

Dean’s cheeks flushed pink as Castiel glanced confusedly at him.

“I was upset, she was nice. Shut up.” Dean muttered into his cup.

“Ohhh, is that what we’re goin with now, boy?” Dolores looked down at him, eyebrows raised. “He was rambling all night about how he missed ya, and how he wanted to make up with ya. I’m surprised he hasn’t kissed you since you got here!”

Dean was turning redder and redder, and he refused to look up from his mug. Castiel was beginning to grin as he listened quietly. The waitress glanced at them both, and sighed loudly.

“Well, go on, boys, don’t just sit there! It looks like you two aren’t at each other’s throats, so go kiss and make up! I’ll whip up more pancakes.” The feisty woman strutted off to the kitchen, smiling softly to herself.

Dean and Cas glanced back at each other, Dean’s face still bright pink.

With a slight shrug and a mischievous smile, Castiel commented, “Well, you heard the lady, Dean.”

Without time for Dean to react, Cas slipped his hands out of Dean’s, before pulling on his jacket and bringing him close enough to kiss across the table. Dean heard someone whistle from another booth as Cas moved his lips messily against his, hot breath ghosting down his neck. It ended as quick as it began, and Dean was left sitting back, breathless. Cas just grinned brightly.

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dolores whooped from the kitchen, making them both begin to blush. She came out with two plates of pancakes and another cup of coffee and slid a plate to each of them. She pulled up another chair and plopped into it, holding her new cup.  
“Now, you both seem like fine young fellas, and I love a good story. So Cassie, why don’t you tell me how you boys met?” She asked breezily.

Cas smiled, and glanced at Dean before saying, “I’d love to. It’s a very interesting story actually.”

Dean widened his eyes as he realized Cas was going to tell her the real story. The, “I found him in hell and raised him from perdition, then the first time we met on earth he stabbed me” story. He subtly stepped on his foot beneath the table and gave him a warning look. Cas frowned at him, before sighing and slipping into the fake story they had created for times like this. Where Castiel and Dean had met in a coffee shop five years ago, and after Dean had flirted with him constantly, Castiel finally gave in and went on a date with him. It was a sweet story, perfect for the ears of an old waitress. It was at least another two hours before they could slip out the front door.

“Don’t be strangers, now! You boys are free to come here anytime you like!” Dolores called from the entrance, after Dean and Cas has finished telling stories and were heading back home.  
Since the poor Impala was still out of gas, Dean was forced to leave her there and take the car Castiel had “borrowed” to get there. He slipped into the driver’s seat while waving back to Dolores, heart feeling light. He looked over at Castiel settling into his seat, and smiled fondly. Cas noticed and stared back, not understanding.

“What? Is something wrong?” he questioned, forehead crinkling.

Dean shook his head slightly, murmuring, “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.”

Cas cocked his head to one side, still confused, “Then why are you staring at me like that?”

In one fluid movement, Dean leaned over, cupping one side of Castiel’s face and grabbing his shirt collar tightly. This kiss was different than the one in the diner; this was soft and slow, a need to feel skin on his own. He reached up a hand to rest on his neck, and Castiel responded, slipping an arm around Dean’s waist. Dean sighed into his mouth, sweet breath filling Castiel.

“I’m just happy I have you. I’m happy you’re mine. I’m happy that we’re okay.” Dean murmured, eyes half closed and forehead leaning against Cas’. He grinned, and leaned in to kiss him hard one last time before positioning back into his own seat. Cas sat with wide eyes and flushed cheeks as Dean started the car. Dean smirked as he glanced over at his boyfriend.

“I fucking love Denny’s.” Dean thought to himself contentedly.


End file.
